I apologize for neglecting to update the WIP thread, so here's an update with a story snippet to hopefully make up for the wait. I have completed the prologue, Childhood, and 1st zone questlines for the story. I am about half way through the second zone, which is Nidavallir. I am doing a few rewrites for some of the first questlines I wrote, but the changes are minor and mostly just a matter of the tone I want to set for them. I also have a map update, though it does not have place names on it currently. However you can look at it to get an idea of the scale of the world the story is set in(This new map will show both the continent of Frjalsland and Alfheim, there are still 2 continents left to map as well as smaller islands that can be explored as well)
Current Word Count:47,873
Progress
Story Beginning(Complete)
Alfheim Childhood Path(Complete)
Alfheim Quests(Complete, but currently rewriting a couple quest lines)
Nidavallir Quests (50% complete)
Frjalsland Quests (Not Complete)
Random Events (Started)
Planned End Paths: 4(Still in planning, this number will most likely go up)
Variable Count:39
Companion Count: 9
In Game Compendium: (Beastiary started, Maps-3/6 complete-, Lore started)
Standing in the midst of Hunulv’s shrine, you feel your chest grow tight and your thoughts begin to fog. The air is dense with the incense lit about the shrine and smoke from the torches. The spiciness of the haze reminds you of the shaman’s home. Looking down at the fresh markings on your skin grounds you in the moment as you force yourself to focus on the priestess.
Hunulv’s High Priestess is a tall alf with hard muscles and a harsh face. The eldra mark that covers her body is all sharp angles. More archaic than those belonging to the common people of Alfheim. Runes sacred to Hunulv intertwine with the lines of knotwork and imagery, covered only at her hips by a skirt made of furs. A necklace of bones and teeth hangs from her neck. Her face is painted in white ash and charcoal, causing her harsh features to appear even more so. Her blue eyes are sharp, pinning you with a searing gaze that makes your heart begin to race.
“What do you offer as sacrifice to Hunulv, hunter?” Her voice is severe in tone as it rings out into the silence of the shrine.
You indicate the carcass of the great bear hoisted up above the altar. The torch light casts shadows upon its blood crusted fur. The beast looks far less intimidating now as it swings lightly on the creaking rope, tongue lolling from its gaping jaws. The priestess strides toward it, reaching out to run her fingers through the fur in what you think might be admiration. She finds the puncture wound where your spear pierced through the bear to deal the killing blow, ripping a hole into its lungs. The sound of that mighty animal wheezing its final breathes before you put it out of its misery still rattle about inside your head.
“It has been long since someone brought a bear as sacrifice. Hunulv will be pleased.” She turns away from the corpse and moves back toward you, reaching a hand out to tip your chin upward. “Remove your clothing. We will begin the sacrifice.”
Taking a deep breath, you begin removing your clothing without hesitation. The priestesses all watch with cold interest as you bare yourself before them. Once you are fully disrobed, the priestess brings you to the alter. The stone of the alter has a bowl carved into the center, directly below the hanging bear. At the lip of the carved bowl is a line cut into the stone to drain away contents into a waiting wooden bowl beneath.
A long curved knife is offered to you by a nearby priestess, the blade etched with runes. A sacrificial dagger for cutting the throat of a beast. Reaching out, you grip the fur of the bears head to pull it upward and expose the throat. It is still warm to the touch and not yet stiff with death. Drawing the blade across the bear’s throat, you watch as its lifeblood spills forth onto the altar. It spatters you when it hits the stone, but soon it is contained as it fills the altar bowl then drains down into the waiting wooden bowl below.
Chanting fills the air, a murmuring you cannot quite comprehend and yet it fills your chest with a tension that nearly chokes you. The priestess presses down upon your shoulders, leading you to kneel at the altar as the blood flows before you. Rhythmic drums beat somewhere behind you, sharpening your mind as the chanting continues. The stone beneath you is cold against your bare skin as you stare in fixation upon the altar and its contents.
The priestess lifts the wooden bowl now filled to brimming as another replaces it with an empty one. She holds the bowl out to you and the scent of the blood fills your nose, clearing your mind of the fogginess brought on by the incense in the air. Leaning forward, you steady the bowl with your hand and puts your lips to it. The thick warm liquid fills your mouth as you drink deeply of it. The need to gag threatens to cause you to spill it, but you force yourself to keep drinking until the bowl is empty.
The priestess presses her finger against your wet lips, smearing the blood around your mouth before stepping back. Reaching out to the bear, the priestess allows some of the blood to run onto her fingers before flicking them at you. Blood spatter sprinkles onto your face and chest. She leans down, bringing her blood soaked hand before your face. After hovering there for a moment, her hand caresses your face as one of her fingers slides past your lips. Unsure what else to do, you lick the blood from the priestess’ fingers.
When the bear is completely drained, the priestess take the wooden bowls and pour them over your head and onto your arms, chest, back, and legs. Covering your skin in the warm coagulating liquid. The priestess pulls you up to your feet, a smile upon her blood smeared mouth.
“The sacrifice has been offered. Now you will go into the forest alone. Offer your devotion to Hunulv and if you are worthy, then the wargs will not harm you. If you are found unworthy, they will devour you,” she says with a softer voice than before as she hands you a lantern.
Refusing to look back, you walk toward the back of the shrine as she directs you out into the forest. The failing sunlight casts long shadows in the dense forest of Vardrholt. Stopping once you hear the drums of the shrine sound distant, you find yourself in a small clearing. The sun is shining its last rays, nearly gone as the darkness threatens to swallow you whole. Movement in the shadows tells you that you are not alone.
Yellow eyes reflect the light of your lantern as you hold it aloft before you. The trees creak as a warg steps out from the trees. Larger than any bear and taller than a horse, the sacred beast stalks into the clearing. Its fur gleams amber brown in the flickering light and its lips curl back in a snarl that nearly rattles your bones with the sound. Its teeth are as long as your fingers and they snap together like thunder when the warg clamps its jaws shut as it crouches low, stalking ever closer as you stand your ground.